Little Universe https://little-universe.writeas.com/ Sharing what's in the little universe inside my head. Mon, 06 Jul 2026 03:00:23 +0000 Blog is closing https://little-universe.writeas.com/blog-is-closing?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[Hello friends! I haven’t posted on this blog in a while, but I do want to assure you that I’m a lot less depressed than I was when I wrote my last post. I’d never had Seasonal Affective Disorder before and it was tough to deal with. Anyway, on the writing front, this is an update to say I’m going to stop posting on this blog and let my subscription to this platform lapse, which means the blog will disappear in September 2024. Although I’ve always been very reflective, I haven’t found much fulfillment in writing about feelings, observations and high-level concepts, as I have done on this blog. Lately I’ve been finding more success with other forms of writing. I thrive when I tell stories based on concrete facts and lived experiences. In these cases, I might drop in a small reflection here and there, but largely leave the audience to reflect on it themselves, and come to their own philosophical conclusions, if they want to. I figured this out on stage: through storytelling, speech-making, MCing, comedy and improv. The immediate feedback and energy of the audience lights me up. Although that spark doesn’t happen every single time, it’s all part of the package. Off-stage, I’m working on personal projects that have a longer lead time, are harder to get right, and may never see the light of day. That may sound terribly unmotivating but I’m enjoying the process. I may blog again, depending on how things go. Thank you so much for reading and being part of my journey. Little Universe]]> Hello friends!

I haven’t posted on this blog in a while, but I do want to assure you that I’m a lot less depressed than I was when I wrote my last post. I’d never had Seasonal Affective Disorder before and it was tough to deal with.

Anyway, on the writing front, this is an update to say I’m going to stop posting on this blog and let my subscription to this platform lapse, which means the blog will disappear in September 2024.

Although I’ve always been very reflective, I haven’t found much fulfillment in writing about feelings, observations and high-level concepts, as I have done on this blog.

Lately I’ve been finding more success with other forms of writing. I thrive when I tell stories based on concrete facts and lived experiences. In these cases, I might drop in a small reflection here and there, but largely leave the audience to reflect on it themselves, and come to their own philosophical conclusions, if they want to.

I figured this out on stage: through storytelling, speech-making, MCing, comedy and improv. The immediate feedback and energy of the audience lights me up. Although that spark doesn’t happen every single time, it’s all part of the package.

Off-stage, I’m working on personal projects that have a longer lead time, are harder to get right, and may never see the light of day. That may sound terribly unmotivating but I’m enjoying the process. I may blog again, depending on how things go.

Thank you so much for reading and being part of my journey.

Little Universe

]]> https://little-universe.writeas.com/blog-is-closing Fri, 31 May 2024 11:05:51 +0000 Notes on sadness, courtesy of Seasonal Affective Disorder https://little-universe.writeas.com/notes-on-sadness-courtesy-of-seasonal-affective-disorder?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[It sometimes feels like we live in a world that makes us sad, but we’re not allowed to actually say we are. It’s like something I read yesterday when I was doomscrolling on Instagram. That in patriarchal societies, one common way to keep women lower in the hierarchy is to claim that they are each other’s worst enemy, and pit them against each other. This gives them someone to blame for their troubles, and something to focus on - a sense of direction, however misguided. In a similar way, the sad world pits us against our own selves, by encouraging us to resist and feel shame about our natural expressions of our full range of emotions. In this way, we are distracted from the real cause of our sadness. So we try to fix ourselves. And sometimes it works. We develop healthy morning routines, diet, exercise, community, fulfilling work. We create youtube and instagram and tiktok accounts to share our hard-earned learnings. But what if we can’t fix ourselves? !--more-- What if our SAD (seasonal affective disorder) lamp, meditation app, mindfulness walks and therapy are just keeping us afloat, not flourishing? What if we try so hard to develop consistent healthy wake-up times, eating habits, exercise, and so on - but it doesn’t work, and it just reinforces what a failure we feel like? What if we’re not laughing much, but at least we’re not crying as much either? Well, that’s easy. We don’t need to go away and fix something else. We can just have a psychiatrist proclaim us depressed, and take some pills. Sarcasm aside, I’m not saying the answer is to blame someone else. From our upbringing to ‘the system’, we have numerous valid reasons for our malaise that we can’t change. So why am I saying the world makes us sad? Doesn’t that mean I’m inviting us to blame the world? I think it’s a bit more nuanced than that. Some things are just going to make us sad, and it’s not the world’s fault, it’s just cause and effect. If the sun goes down earlier in winter, we can’t really change that, but we can try getting a SAD lamp and see if it helps. If I’m catching the same cold as everyone else, the one that takes two weeks to pass and leaves a lingering cough, it’s so annoying but I’d feel a little better expressing my dissatisfaction. If I can’t find me a man because I have baggage and keep self-sabotaging, and each time I heal one emotional wound another one flares up, I’m going to feel helpless and need to tell someone that it sucks, rather than keeping it bottled up. If I struggle with time management, and maintain healthy sleep/diet/exercise for just 3 days before it all falls apart again, I’m going to feel like a hopeless fuckup who can’t help herself. But maybe I need to be around people who won’t see me as a downer because I’m sad for valid reasons. Who understand the frustration of trying to improve and failing repeatedly. I could be that person for someone else, as well. I don’t really know the world’s role in all this. I don’t know who to blame. I don’t know if blame is necessary or relevant. Because actually, one of the most frustrating things in life that everyone has to face is the fact that we try, fail, try differently, fail, try another way, fail, and don’t know if we’ll ever succeed. Because the trying looks different every time, but the failure is the same. Crushing. Out of my control. Again. If we can all have just one person who will hear us complain about it yet again, and not make us feel like a fuckup who needs therapy, and give us a pat on the back for being persistent and creative, maybe we’ll live in a world which does have sadness embedded in it, but it will also be very okay.]]> It sometimes feels like we live in a world that makes us sad, but we’re not allowed to actually say we are.

It’s like something I read yesterday when I was doomscrolling on Instagram. That in patriarchal societies, one common way to keep women lower in the hierarchy is to claim that they are each other’s worst enemy, and pit them against each other. This gives them someone to blame for their troubles, and something to focus on – a sense of direction, however misguided.

In a similar way, the sad world pits us against our own selves, by encouraging us to resist and feel shame about our natural expressions of our full range of emotions. In this way, we are distracted from the real cause of our sadness.

So we try to fix ourselves. And sometimes it works. We develop healthy morning routines, diet, exercise, community, fulfilling work. We create youtube and instagram and tiktok accounts to share our hard-earned learnings.

But what if we can’t fix ourselves?

What if our SAD (seasonal affective disorder) lamp, meditation app, mindfulness walks and therapy are just keeping us afloat, not flourishing? What if we try so hard to develop consistent healthy wake-up times, eating habits, exercise, and so on – but it doesn’t work, and it just reinforces what a failure we feel like? What if we’re not laughing much, but at least we’re not crying as much either?

Well, that’s easy. We don’t need to go away and fix something else. We can just have a psychiatrist proclaim us depressed, and take some pills.

Sarcasm aside, I’m not saying the answer is to blame someone else. From our upbringing to ‘the system’, we have numerous valid reasons for our malaise that we can’t change.

So why am I saying the world makes us sad? Doesn’t that mean I’m inviting us to blame the world?

I think it’s a bit more nuanced than that. Some things are just going to make us sad, and it’s not the world’s fault, it’s just cause and effect. If the sun goes down earlier in winter, we can’t really change that, but we can try getting a SAD lamp and see if it helps. If I’m catching the same cold as everyone else, the one that takes two weeks to pass and leaves a lingering cough, it’s so annoying but I’d feel a little better expressing my dissatisfaction. If I can’t find me a man because I have baggage and keep self-sabotaging, and each time I heal one emotional wound another one flares up, I’m going to feel helpless and need to tell someone that it sucks, rather than keeping it bottled up. If I struggle with time management, and maintain healthy sleep/diet/exercise for just 3 days before it all falls apart again, I’m going to feel like a hopeless fuckup who can’t help herself.

But maybe I need to be around people who won’t see me as a downer because I’m sad for valid reasons. Who understand the frustration of trying to improve and failing repeatedly. I could be that person for someone else, as well.

I don’t really know the world’s role in all this. I don’t know who to blame. I don’t know if blame is necessary or relevant.

Because actually, one of the most frustrating things in life that everyone has to face is the fact that we try, fail, try differently, fail, try another way, fail, and don’t know if we’ll ever succeed. Because the trying looks different every time, but the failure is the same. Crushing. Out of my control. Again.

If we can all have just one person who will hear us complain about it yet again, and not make us feel like a fuckup who needs therapy, and give us a pat on the back for being persistent and creative, maybe we’ll live in a world which does have sadness embedded in it, but it will also be very okay.

]]> https://little-universe.writeas.com/notes-on-sadness-courtesy-of-seasonal-affective-disorder Thu, 23 Nov 2023 17:12:15 +0000 Getting anxiety and joy to work together for once https://little-universe.writeas.com/getting-anxiety-and-joy-to-work-together-for-once?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[I’ve struggled with anxiety most of my life. It is always there, thrumming along in the background. And when things get extra stressful or uncertain, the anxiety flares up. If my brain is a page and thoughts are the words, during stressful times the anxious thoughts grow from a tiny, unobtrusive font to a bold, italic, all-caps nightmare overwhelming the page. But it doesn’t let up when life gets quieter. When the page is clearer, the small font size suddenly seems not so small anymore. And then it’s all I can focus on. That’s been happening lately during my much-needed time off during the holiday season. I’ve been using this break not only to relax, but also - importantly - to process recent challenging events. So it was never going to be all peachy. But to add to that, my longtime friend anxiety has decided to pop by for a visit. Medium font size at best - but hard to ignore. So this morning, I decided we should have a little chat. I asked my anxiety why it blocks me from feeling joy more often. Here is how the conversation went. !--more-- ANXIETY: I do this because I don’t want us to forget that there are people around the world suffering right now. And that suffering doesn’t just happen to ‘other people’. Such terrible things could happen in our life too. ME: This all makes logical sense. But you and I have been living in this fear for decades and I don’t feel like it’s improved my life or me as a person. ANXIETY: I disagree. I think that if we’re joyful all the time, we’ll become self-absorbed and only focused on our own happiness and unable to empathise or show compassion for others who are suffering. So, I do make you a better person by keeping you in constant low-level fear! You’re welcome. I’m so proud of myself. ME: Seriously? Fine, that’s a noble goal. But I know joyful people who are very generous and kind to others. I feel lighter just from being in their presence - it’s like they’re giving without even trying. Plus, they have great boundaries which allows them to empathise and show compassion without getting drained. That’s not self-absorbed. ANXIETY: Yeah true, they’re really great people… but I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel safe to lean into feeling joyful. It feels like the second we try that, something bad will happen. ME: Brene Brown talked about that. That many people associate joy with foreboding. Sucks. Why do I do that? ANXIETY: Probably because you’ve been living with me for a long time, hah! Don’t be too hard on yourself. ME: What? Jeez, you’re actually quite nice sometimes. ANXIETY: Right?! I know I’m a jackass most of the time but I know how to pick my moments. After all, I care about you and want to protect you. That’s literally why I exist! ME: A therapist once told me that humans evolved to experience anxiety - it provided a sense of caution and protectiveness which was critical to prevent our species from going extinct. So, thanks I guess. But can you please not overwhelm all the other emotions? ANXIETY: I don’t know how to do that, to be honest. I’ve been dominating the group for years. Though recently I’ve noticed that sadness and anger do some jobs better than I do. It’s kind of annoying, but whatever, I just wait around until they mess up and then I step in. And I suppose I could let joy take the stage for like, a minute maybe? ME: Thanks for clarifying how you see things. I also think sadness and anger are great at what they do and I’m trying to let them come through in healthier ways. Let’s give joy a chance too. ANXIETY: But we’ll be in for a massive shock if something bad does happen while joy takes the stage. We’ll have a hard time dealing with it. ME: No offense, but remember when we had a massive shock recently, which came during a moment of joy? Turns out we can deal - we didn’t fall apart into a useless puddle. Yes, there was definitely a lot of fear. But we were overwhelmed with a sense of duty and even devotion. It became clear what was most important in that moment. And not only that, we felt like we needed to be strong for everyone else. We found and even created tiny pockets of joy - a different type of joy, that helped all of us get through a difficult time. ANXIETY: Oh yeah. That was cool. I didn’t know we had that in us, to be honest. High five! ME: Uh, sure Anxiety. High five. So that means even you can’t deny that we’ve got a pretty solid “when it happens, I’ll find a way to deal with it” programming that gets activated by the massive shocks that we fear so much. ANXIETY: Huh. Yeah. True. ME: And it’s not like I’m going to be this totally fearless person now. Shitty situations are still shitty. But it doesn’t help to completely forget that we also have strength and people we can lean on. Plus, people need to lean on us too, from time to time. How do I get the energy for that if you keep draining it with fear and dread? ANXIETY: Good point, I do still want to be helpful though. I’m not a good team player, you know that. ME: Well, could you try? I mean, you’re protective and cautious - that’s great. But the terror and despair - can we PLEASE drop that? ANXIETY: As long as you’re clear on my strengths and you let me use them. And you and I both know you can never get rid of me, hah! You can’t beat evolution, fucko! ME: Hey hey hey, cool it with the language. And it’s true that I can’t get rid of you. The best I can do is reduce your font size. So, I’m not going to insist we stop thinking anxious thoughts. Catastrophise all you want, have a ball. But on one condition. ANXIETY: What, so you’re NOT stopping me from reminding you about all the suffering in the world and how you’re totally helpless and you don’t deserve to feel joy? ME: Jeez, YES, I’m not stopping you. But I’m holding you to one condition. We also have to imagine that someone, somewhere, is going through the opposite. Essentially, if you’re going to go to negative extremes, we have to balance them out with positive extremes. ANXIETY: This sounds stupid, but sure. Here’s a negative extreme. Someone somewhere has just lost all their savings. They were a kind person who was swindled and they didn’t deserve this. Their extended family depends on their income for their survival. ME: Aw, man. OK, a kind person somewhere else has been working hard all their life and just won the lottery - now their extended family can live comfortably and even have some extra money to fulfil dreams like travelling, buying property, starting a business, studying abroad. ANXIETY: Hm, maybe your idea wasn’t as stupid as I thought. OK, here’s another. Someone has just discovered they have an incurable disease that will cause their vision to slowly deteriorate until they cannot see anymore. ME: Ahhh, this is difficult. First of all I am going to imagine that this person has a loving support system that will make this easier for them. Second, let’s imagine that someone else has just been cured of blindness with a revolutionary new technology that they never even imagined they would have access to. Now not only are they happier, but their joy spreads to the people around them. ANXIETY: Huh, this is kind of a fun game. Also, in both these scenarios, the fortunate person’s joy was contagious. ME: Good point. Is joy inherently contagious then? Is that why I feel better around people who are joyful, even though they’re not doing anything specific? ANXIETY: Could be. But I don’t think you’re even wired to be joyful. You’re kind of morose. ME: What! I’m not that bad! Am I?! Well, I suppose we could start with maybe trying to cultivate peace? And then shoot for joy? ANXIETY: Whatever. I think I can work with that. By the way, someone somewhere has just lost their home in a fire caused by unseasonally dry conditions due to climate change. ME: Come on, man! OK, someone somewhere has been homeless for a long time and has finally got a home to live in and has big dreams for how they want to live their life. Maybe this person will even create or influence some really effective environmental policies or initiatives. ANXIETY: Oh, now you’ve got your fortunate people saving the world. ME: You and your snark. ANXIETY: Are we done here? ME: If you’re done scaring me, I have no problem with that. ANXIETY: Lol cool, see you later alligator! Actually, not later. See you soon, little cartoon… ME: Jackass. So after that rather illuminating chat, I decided to start doing this. When I have an extreme negative thought, I’ll try to imagine an extreme positive - its opposite - happening to someone. As I just came up with the exercise this morning, it’s not been enough time to conclude whether it works. Uncharacteristically, though, I have a good feeling about it. POSTSCRIPT: Not to depress anyone, but my anxiety is capable of sharing worse situations that really upset me and that I didn’t want to share here. For certain types of tragedy and suffering, all I can do is imagine I am giving them a piece of my heart, and wish them well with whatever compassion I am capable of mustering. But with this exercise, I can also imagine that someone else who experienced the same suffering has found sustained peace and is moving forward. And so it rekindles hope.]]> I’ve struggled with anxiety most of my life. It is always there, thrumming along in the background. And when things get extra stressful or uncertain, the anxiety flares up. If my brain is a page and thoughts are the words, during stressful times the anxious thoughts grow from a tiny, unobtrusive font to a bold, italic, all-caps nightmare overwhelming the page. But it doesn’t let up when life gets quieter. When the page is clearer, the small font size suddenly seems not so small anymore. And then it’s all I can focus on.

That’s been happening lately during my much-needed time off during the holiday season. I’ve been using this break not only to relax, but also – importantly – to process recent challenging events. So it was never going to be all peachy. But to add to that, my longtime friend anxiety has decided to pop by for a visit. Medium font size at best – but hard to ignore.

So this morning, I decided we should have a little chat. I asked my anxiety why it blocks me from feeling joy more often. Here is how the conversation went.

ANXIETY: I do this because I don’t want us to forget that there are people around the world suffering right now. And that suffering doesn’t just happen to ‘other people’. Such terrible things could happen in our life too.

ME: This all makes logical sense. But you and I have been living in this fear for decades and I don’t feel like it’s improved my life or me as a person.

ANXIETY: I disagree. I think that if we’re joyful all the time, we’ll become self-absorbed and only focused on our own happiness and unable to empathise or show compassion for others who are suffering. So, I do make you a better person by keeping you in constant low-level fear! You’re welcome. I’m so proud of myself.

ME: Seriously? Fine, that’s a noble goal. But I know joyful people who are very generous and kind to others. I feel lighter just from being in their presence – it’s like they’re giving without even trying. Plus, they have great boundaries which allows them to empathise and show compassion without getting drained. That’s not self-absorbed.

ANXIETY: Yeah true, they’re really great people… but I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel safe to lean into feeling joyful. It feels like the second we try that, something bad will happen.

ME: Brene Brown talked about that. That many people associate joy with foreboding. Sucks. Why do I do that?

ANXIETY: Probably because you’ve been living with me for a long time, hah! Don’t be too hard on yourself.

ME: What? Jeez, you’re actually quite nice sometimes.

ANXIETY: Right?! I know I’m a jackass most of the time but I know how to pick my moments. After all, I care about you and want to protect you. That’s literally why I exist!

ME: A therapist once told me that humans evolved to experience anxiety – it provided a sense of caution and protectiveness which was critical to prevent our species from going extinct. So, thanks I guess. But can you please not overwhelm all the other emotions?

ANXIETY: I don’t know how to do that, to be honest. I’ve been dominating the group for years. Though recently I’ve noticed that sadness and anger do some jobs better than I do. It’s kind of annoying, but whatever, I just wait around until they mess up and then I step in. And I suppose I could let joy take the stage for like, a minute maybe?

ME: Thanks for clarifying how you see things. I also think sadness and anger are great at what they do and I’m trying to let them come through in healthier ways. Let’s give joy a chance too.

ANXIETY: But we’ll be in for a massive shock if something bad does happen while joy takes the stage. We’ll have a hard time dealing with it.

ME: No offense, but remember when we had a massive shock recently, which came during a moment of joy? Turns out we can deal – we didn’t fall apart into a useless puddle. Yes, there was definitely a lot of fear. But we were overwhelmed with a sense of duty and even devotion. It became clear what was most important in that moment. And not only that, we felt like we needed to be strong for everyone else. We found and even created tiny pockets of joy – a different type of joy, that helped all of us get through a difficult time.

ANXIETY: Oh yeah. That was cool. I didn’t know we had that in us, to be honest. High five!

ME: Uh, sure Anxiety. High five. So that means even you can’t deny that we’ve got a pretty solid “when it happens, I’ll find a way to deal with it” programming that gets activated by the massive shocks that we fear so much.

ANXIETY: Huh. Yeah. True.

ME: And it’s not like I’m going to be this totally fearless person now. Shitty situations are still shitty. But it doesn’t help to completely forget that we also have strength and people we can lean on. Plus, people need to lean on us too, from time to time. How do I get the energy for that if you keep draining it with fear and dread?

ANXIETY: Good point, I do still want to be helpful though. I’m not a good team player, you know that.

ME: Well, could you try? I mean, you’re protective and cautious – that’s great. But the terror and despair – can we PLEASE drop that?

ANXIETY: As long as you’re clear on my strengths and you let me use them. And you and I both know you can never get rid of me, hah! You can’t beat evolution, fucko!

ME: Hey hey hey, cool it with the language. And it’s true that I can’t get rid of you. The best I can do is reduce your font size. So, I’m not going to insist we stop thinking anxious thoughts. Catastrophise all you want, have a ball. But on one condition.

ANXIETY: What, so you’re NOT stopping me from reminding you about all the suffering in the world and how you’re totally helpless and you don’t deserve to feel joy?

ME: Jeez, YES, I’m not stopping you. But I’m holding you to one condition. We also have to imagine that someone, somewhere, is going through the opposite. Essentially, if you’re going to go to negative extremes, we have to balance them out with positive extremes.

ANXIETY: This sounds stupid, but sure. Here’s a negative extreme. Someone somewhere has just lost all their savings. They were a kind person who was swindled and they didn’t deserve this. Their extended family depends on their income for their survival.

ME: Aw, man. OK, a kind person somewhere else has been working hard all their life and just won the lottery – now their extended family can live comfortably and even have some extra money to fulfil dreams like travelling, buying property, starting a business, studying abroad.

ANXIETY: Hm, maybe your idea wasn’t as stupid as I thought. OK, here’s another. Someone has just discovered they have an incurable disease that will cause their vision to slowly deteriorate until they cannot see anymore.

ME: Ahhh, this is difficult. First of all I am going to imagine that this person has a loving support system that will make this easier for them. Second, let’s imagine that someone else has just been cured of blindness with a revolutionary new technology that they never even imagined they would have access to. Now not only are they happier, but their joy spreads to the people around them.

ANXIETY: Huh, this is kind of a fun game. Also, in both these scenarios, the fortunate person’s joy was contagious.

ME: Good point. Is joy inherently contagious then? Is that why I feel better around people who are joyful, even though they’re not doing anything specific?

ANXIETY: Could be. But I don’t think you’re even wired to be joyful. You’re kind of morose.

ME: What! I’m not that bad! Am I?! Well, I suppose we could start with maybe trying to cultivate peace? And then shoot for joy?

ANXIETY: Whatever. I think I can work with that. By the way, someone somewhere has just lost their home in a fire caused by unseasonally dry conditions due to climate change.

ME: Come on, man! OK, someone somewhere has been homeless for a long time and has finally got a home to live in and has big dreams for how they want to live their life. Maybe this person will even create or influence some really effective environmental policies or initiatives.

ANXIETY: Oh, now you’ve got your fortunate people saving the world.

ME: You and your snark.

ANXIETY: Are we done here?

ME: If you’re done scaring me, I have no problem with that.

ANXIETY: Lol cool, see you later alligator! Actually, not later. See you soon, little cartoon…

ME: Jackass.

So after that rather illuminating chat, I decided to start doing this. When I have an extreme negative thought, I’ll try to imagine an extreme positive – its opposite – happening to someone. As I just came up with the exercise this morning, it’s not been enough time to conclude whether it works. Uncharacteristically, though, I have a good feeling about it.

POSTSCRIPT: Not to depress anyone, but my anxiety is capable of sharing worse situations that really upset me and that I didn’t want to share here. For certain types of tragedy and suffering, all I can do is imagine I am giving them a piece of my heart, and wish them well with whatever compassion I am capable of mustering. But with this exercise, I can also imagine that someone else who experienced the same suffering has found sustained peace and is moving forward. And so it rekindles hope.

]]> https://little-universe.writeas.com/getting-anxiety-and-joy-to-work-together-for-once Thu, 29 Dec 2022 07:09:05 +0000 The #1 way to get the best out of each hour of therapy https://little-universe.writeas.com/the-1-way-to-get-the-best-out-of-each-hour-of-therapy?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[I’m pretty surprised and impressed by how many people are in therapy these days. Sometimes I'll casually mention therapy in conversation with an acquaintance, and then it turns out they've got a therapist too. And most have said they were enriched by it, regardless of whether they have a diagnosable mental health condition or not. No matter how your mental health is, it seems that having a guide to help us know ourselves better makes a noticeable difference to our lives. Or does it? We've also all heard about people who go to therapy for years and seemingly make minimal progress. It can even be tempting even to use this as 'evidence' to dismiss therapy as mere woo-woo, or therapists as money-grabbing hacks. And indeed, sometimes the therapist just isn't that good at their job. Or sometimes they are good, but not the right fit for the client. While those are important issues to consider, for this article I’d like to look at another angle. !--more-- There are some cases where even the best therapists will find it rather challenging to help someone. And that's not to say that those clients are bad - there’s absolutely nothing wrong with them as people. It just means they are in need of one thing: to cultivate the right frame of mind to be helped. That frame of mind, in my experience, is openness and receptivity to other ideas and to try new things, even in a small way. Even 1% more openness and receptivity can help a person make great strides in therapy. The good news is, this is controllable and learnable. Here are a few ways improving this one thing can really super-charge your therapy sessions. \[Disclaimer: this isn’t meant to be taken as medical or any other sort of official or authoritative advice. This is a sharing of personal, individual experiences of therapy with the hope that they can be helpful to others.\] Even if our problems are everyone else's fault, taking responsibility for the role those problems play in our life can lead to lasting changes and even confidence. It really sucks when crappy things happen to us for no fault of our own. And it's totally natural and human to feel like life is unfair and we've been a victim. However, we can still make choices in response to these events. Sometimes our response isn't the best, and it takes a neutral, objective person to point it out. Experimenting with making small changes to our response, and seeing the results, can not only improve the quality of our lives - but also improve our confidence and sense of agency even in situations outside our control. Having a safe space to rant is important and valuable. That safe space can also help us process and move on from the issue, rather than be stuck in anger. We’ve all had that one thing we keep ranting to our friends about and they get tired of it. Yet our therapist will listen when we complain for the 17th time that “Rosita never says hello to me at work” - and then we’ll feel better. But we can also help the therapist help us, by saying “It really upsets me that Rosita doesn't say hello to me at work”. Phrasing it in a way that shows awareness of the emotions involved can help us move forward to asking productive follow-up questions, like “Why does Rosita matter so much to me anyway?” That helps us get unstuck from obsessing over the situation. Then we are able to rise above it and move on genuinely (rather than suppressing our feelings). Facing parts of ourselves we don't like is really hard, but it's OK and safe to examine them with compassion. This is one of the hardest parts of therapy, so good therapists are skilled at helping clients understand that they are allowed to have flaws. They can help us see ourselves in a kinder light. This gives us the strength to face very difficult things. Choosing to see a situation from a different point of view means we can be flexible with our vision, and therefore our actions. Many of us make decisions with our head, which is great at work but can cause problems with relationships. Experimenting with seeing a situation in a heart-led way can lead to fresh realisations and renewed understanding and confidence in our inner voice. Beyond head and heart, there are many other filters we could try out. This is one of my personal favourite parts of therapy. Receptivity in everyday life Beyond therapy, receptivity and openness can bring value to many parts of our lives. For instance, Drs. John and Julie Gottman (leading relationship experts) identified receptivity as an important ingredient for a healthy relationship. That means being willing to be influenced to some extent by your partner, but not so much that you lose your individual identity. Indeed, finding that balance between receptivity and maintaining a boundary for our individuality can be very tricky, so this is where self-awareness comes in. With receptivity, we are able to be curious and discover the emotion we are feeling, in order to process it. And self-awareness empowers us to use the right words to tell another person how we feel. While receptivity helps us experiment with new ways of seeing the world, self-awareness allows us to critically assess whether it suits us or not. Receptivity opens the way for us to see our and others’ mistakes with compassion, and self-awareness enables us to take accountability for our actions in life and choose to grow from them. So whether you are in therapy or not, receptivity matters and can be a useful tool for expanding our worlds. How does it show up in your life?]]> I’m pretty surprised and impressed by how many people are in therapy these days. Sometimes I'll casually mention therapy in conversation with an acquaintance, and then it turns out they've got a therapist too. And most have said they were enriched by it, regardless of whether they have a diagnosable mental health condition or not. No matter how your mental health is, it seems that having a guide to help us know ourselves better makes a noticeable difference to our lives.

Or does it?

We've also all heard about people who go to therapy for years and seemingly make minimal progress. It can even be tempting even to use this as 'evidence' to dismiss therapy as mere woo-woo, or therapists as money-grabbing hacks. And indeed, sometimes the therapist just isn't that good at their job. Or sometimes they are good, but not the right fit for the client. While those are important issues to consider, for this article I’d like to look at another angle.

There are some cases where even the best therapists will find it rather challenging to help someone. And that's not to say that those clients are bad – there’s absolutely nothing wrong with them as people. It just means they are in need of one thing: to cultivate the right frame of mind to be helped.

That frame of mind, in my experience, is openness and receptivity to other ideas and to try new things, even in a small way. Even 1% more openness and receptivity can help a person make great strides in therapy.

The good news is, this is controllable and learnable. Here are a few ways improving this one thing can really super-charge your therapy sessions. [Disclaimer: this isn’t meant to be taken as medical or any other sort of official or authoritative advice. This is a sharing of personal, individual experiences of therapy with the hope that they can be helpful to others.]

Even if our problems are everyone else's fault, taking responsibility for the role those problems play in our life can lead to lasting changes and even confidence.

It really sucks when crappy things happen to us for no fault of our own. And it's totally natural and human to feel like life is unfair and we've been a victim. However, we can still make choices in response to these events. Sometimes our response isn't the best, and it takes a neutral, objective person to point it out.

Experimenting with making small changes to our response, and seeing the results, can not only improve the quality of our lives – but also improve our confidence and sense of agency even in situations outside our control.

Having a safe space to rant is important and valuable. That safe space can also help us process and move on from the issue, rather than be stuck in anger.

We’ve all had that one thing we keep ranting to our friends about and they get tired of it. Yet our therapist will listen when we complain for the 17th time that “Rosita never says hello to me at work” – and then we’ll feel better. But we can also help the therapist help us, by saying “It really upsets me that Rosita doesn't say hello to me at work”. Phrasing it in a way that shows awareness of the emotions involved can help us move forward to asking productive follow-up questions, like “Why does Rosita matter so much to me anyway?” That helps us get unstuck from obsessing over the situation. Then we are able to rise above it and move on genuinely (rather than suppressing our feelings).

Facing parts of ourselves we don't like is really hard, but it's OK and safe to examine them with compassion.

This is one of the hardest parts of therapy, so good therapists are skilled at helping clients understand that they are allowed to have flaws. They can help us see ourselves in a kinder light. This gives us the strength to face very difficult things.

Choosing to see a situation from a different point of view means we can be flexible with our vision, and therefore our actions.

Many of us make decisions with our head, which is great at work but can cause problems with relationships. Experimenting with seeing a situation in a heart-led way can lead to fresh realisations and renewed understanding and confidence in our inner voice. Beyond head and heart, there are many other filters we could try out. This is one of my personal favourite parts of therapy.

Receptivity in everyday life

Beyond therapy, receptivity and openness can bring value to many parts of our lives. For instance, Drs. John and Julie Gottman (leading relationship experts) identified receptivity as an important ingredient for a healthy relationship. That means being willing to be influenced to some extent by your partner, but not so much that you lose your individual identity.

Indeed, finding that balance between receptivity and maintaining a boundary for our individuality can be very tricky, so this is where self-awareness comes in. With receptivity, we are able to be curious and discover the emotion we are feeling, in order to process it. And self-awareness empowers us to use the right words to tell another person how we feel.

While receptivity helps us experiment with new ways of seeing the world, self-awareness allows us to critically assess whether it suits us or not.

Receptivity opens the way for us to see our and others’ mistakes with compassion, and self-awareness enables us to take accountability for our actions in life and choose to grow from them.

So whether you are in therapy or not, receptivity matters and can be a useful tool for expanding our worlds. How does it show up in your life?

]]> https://little-universe.writeas.com/the-1-way-to-get-the-best-out-of-each-hour-of-therapy Sun, 11 Dec 2022 16:05:19 +0000 Does "special" mean "entitled"? https://little-universe.writeas.com/does-special-mean-entitled?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[Parents these days have a hard time. They want their kids to know they’re special and can do anything, but also don’t want them to be entitled and selfish. And with the internet and social media, there’s more information available than ever before about the kinds of issues parenting can cause to kids, from attachment problems to all types of weird perceptions of reality (just look at psychologist Mary Trump’s book on her uncle Donald). I am sure it intimidates even the most loving, well-meaning parents. But this post isn’t going to go into all that. I just want to share that I had a very interesting conversation with my colleague, who made me aware of the dilemma. He wants to ensure his kids are humble and understand that they’re not special in the grand scheme of things - but also, that they are special and can achieve great things in life. While also knowing that this doesn’t give them the right to act entitled. Not to mention that this paradox is too complicated for most young minds. What’s a parent to do? I decided to share with him a concept I’ve been mulling over in my own life. As humans, we’re not isolated beings - we are irrevocably affected by others. We exist in a massive, complex network connecting all 7.5+ billion people in the world (as well as animals and other living beings). Energy is constantly flowing between us, and can be simplified as ‘giving’ and ‘taking’. So in that context, what makes you special is what you can give to the world. Being special does not entitle you to take. As a non-parent, I can’t say how well this would work in parenting. But it did give my colleague pause - to him, this solved the dilemma. Perhaps this concept can solve other dilemmas too?]]> Parents these days have a hard time. They want their kids to know they’re special and can do anything, but also don’t want them to be entitled and selfish. And with the internet and social media, there’s more information available than ever before about the kinds of issues parenting can cause to kids, from attachment problems to all types of weird perceptions of reality (just look at psychologist Mary Trump’s book on her uncle Donald). I am sure it intimidates even the most loving, well-meaning parents.

But this post isn’t going to go into all that. I just want to share that I had a very interesting conversation with my colleague, who made me aware of the dilemma. He wants to ensure his kids are humble and understand that they’re not special in the grand scheme of things – but also, that they are special and can achieve great things in life. While also knowing that this doesn’t give them the right to act entitled. Not to mention that this paradox is too complicated for most young minds. What’s a parent to do?

I decided to share with him a concept I’ve been mulling over in my own life. As humans, we’re not isolated beings – we are irrevocably affected by others. We exist in a massive, complex network connecting all 7.5+ billion people in the world (as well as animals and other living beings). Energy is constantly flowing between us, and can be simplified as ‘giving’ and ‘taking’.

So in that context, what makes you special is what you can give to the world. Being special does not entitle you to take. As a non-parent, I can’t say how well this would work in parenting. But it did give my colleague pause – to him, this solved the dilemma. Perhaps this concept can solve other dilemmas too?

]]> https://little-universe.writeas.com/does-special-mean-entitled Sat, 10 Dec 2022 07:03:53 +0000 Debating for the Conflict-Averse https://little-universe.writeas.com/debating-for-the-conflict-averse?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[In my final year at secondary school, I started a discussion forum. Unsatisfied with the competitiveness of debate clubs, I wanted to create a safe space where people could share and listen to views on philosophical questions and current affairs. This was intended for everyone to benefit from - not just the people who ‘won’ the conversation. Discussing big ideas My discussion forum concept was modeled on what I’d read about the ancient Greek democratic system: people (OK, men) would assemble in the town square, share their views and listen to others. In the end, they’d vote on what to do. I respected this raw and uncomplicated process, but what really interested me was the conversation before the vote. Of course, people generally wanted to convince others to come round to their side. But what I was most curious about was the people who were receptive enough to accept being convinced. !--more-- We’ve all noticed that the bigger the idea, the more emotionally attached to it we get - sometimes we even attach our identity to it. This is what makes religion and politics such charged subjects. I mean, nobody was assembling at the town square to discuss sandwich flavours (gyros flavours? Did they have gyros in ancient Greece? I digress…). If they were making the effort to come, they’d be armed with their arguments. We all want things to go our way, after all. Or do we? In order to be open to having our mind changed, we have to show up with some level of humility, the willingness to let someone else be right about something that means a lot to us. And it’s a decision many of us consciously have to make. Whoever did this at the ancient town square exhibited a form of pragmatism: caring more about getting the best outcome for all, than just about being right. Debate vs discussion I realised that in contrast to the pragmatic approach, I was more familiar with just one way of discussing big ideas: the debate model. Most of us know the format of school debates, whether we were involved or just saw them on TV shows. The first speaker eloquently introduces the main arguments. The second takes notes and provides scathing rebuttals. The final speaker wraps up the debate with a mic drop. That’s a fantastic format for developing a number of important skills - research, structuring arguments, persuasion, public speaking, handling pressure, and more. And ‘big questions about big ideas’ are an ideal training ground for people to use these skills, because they are complex, subjective and hard to answer. What I noticed, though, was that outside of the debating context, very few of my classmates seemed that interested in chatting casually about those same big ideas while hanging out at break times or milling around after school. This mattered to me, because I was genuinely interested in those topics, but didn’t want to have to separate them into a black-and-white, overly simplistic ‘for’ or ‘against’ statement. I wanted to know what other people thought, and didn’t want to engage only by trying to convince others of my viewpoint - what if I didn’t even have one? I wanted to play around with being for, against, or neither. Sitting in confusion and indecisiveness. Seeing all points of view, and lingering in grey areas. Not winning, while also not losing. And I wanted to do this with people. This kind of approach could make a conversation less of a competition, and more a form of play, fun and connection. I suspected this could be possible even with big, heavy subjects, as long as everyone approaches it with that mindset. With my big ideas about big ideas, it was time to, ironically, convince people to support and join me. The experiment The easiest part was getting a teacher to be my mentor in bringing my discussion forum to fruition. What teacher wouldn’t want to support a nerdy student who wants to discuss intellectual topics in their free time, and even try to corral other teenagers into it too? Dr C was one of my favourite teachers - he taught human geography, which had originally piqued my interest in current affairs. As a side note, he also introduced us to TED talks in the mid-2000s, before it really took off globally and before TEDx was a thing (by the way, did you know the first TED conference was in 1984?!). With Dr C’s guidance, I assembled a little team who matched me in being soft-spoken and nerdy but offered a broad range of interests and perspectives to keep things thought-provoking. Finally, it was time to hold our first session. We booked a room for lunchtime on a Wednesday. We plastered posters around the school with a funny comic we found online. We printed out a couple of interesting articles to hand out for inspiration and mental ignition. If only I could recall what the topic was. All I remember was showing up to that classroom, flanked only by my teammates, watching the clock tick and wondering exactly how stupid an idea this was. We had moved the desks to the sides and arranged the chairs in a circle in the middle of the room. The idea was to engage without desks creating barriers between us. Five, maybe 10 minutes after the start time, suddenly students started popping their heads in. “Is this the discussion forum?” they ventured. “Yes!” I exclaimed, going into host mode, directing people to chairs and shoving printouts into their hands. All too quickly, the room was full and we needed to get more chairs from a neighbouring classroom. Although people were a little shy at first, the conversation got going and people became really engaged with each others’ ideas. Not a single fight broke out. By the time the bell rang for class, I was relieved and elated. I couldn’t believe how well it had worked. And I could not wait to start organising the next session. Unexpected outcomes In all honesty, my main hope was that the discussion forum wouldn’t be a waste of time for the participants. As it was such a new concept for the school, I didn’t dare imagine people doing more than think “yeah, that was OK,” and then moving on with their day. So, you can imagine my delight when they actually thanked me for doing this and asked when the next one would be. As with any debut, there were also issues. The handouts were distracting and too long, so we decided to do away with them, provide shorter ones, or make them optional for those who wanted to pre-read before sessions. The chair circle formation, while removing barriers, created an awkward sensation of a ‘black hole’ between us. We discovered that sitting around a table provided a much-needed sense of structure and stability, especially during more vulnerable or honest moments. I was also asked not to direct the conversation too much. I was trying too hard to control the proceedings so that they would be productive and interesting, but it created the opposite effect. I had to learn to sit back and let it flow, and step in when I had a valuable point to add, needed to provide facilitation or mediation, or opened or closed the session. I’d also taken it upon myself to call on quieter people to speak up, thinking that they just needed a little encouragement. That, it turned out, was unnecessary - if they had something to say, they generally decided when and how they would say it - no direction required. Agree to disagree Emboldened by people’s willingness to engage with ideas they disagreed with, I suggested bringing in slightly more explosive opposing views. At that time, the concept of ‘intelligent design’ was being debated in the US - religious groups were insisting this be taught in schools as opposed to evolution. I was fascinated and thought it would be fun to host one of our English teachers, who was a steadfast Christian, and Mr C, a staunch atheist, at one of our forums. (I realise this reveals a lot about what I consider fun…) The two teachers begrudgingly agreed, and the turnout to this session ended up being one of our highest ever. I suppose many people came just to see two teachers have it out with each other, but the whole point was that everyone had to be civil. By the time the bell rang, though, the English teacher had a distinct pink hue to her face while Mr C was sputtering in barely concealed frustration. Despite this, they consented to being involved in a Part Two and, rather amazingly, were much calmer throughout that second session. Those hoping for a dramatic showdown discreetly made their exits. I recall that we discussed other topics like whether hijab bans make sense (they were being hotly discussed in France at the time), and possibly euthanasia (also in the news). My memory of the rest is hazy, I regret to say. I will share that at our graduation ceremony that year, I was recognised for this with a ‘Social Contribution’ Award, which was pretty amazing and major validation. I believe the discussion forum was continued the following year after I graduated. I haven’t kept up with it so I don’t know if it still exists today. But if it counts for anything, I’m glad I did it. It helped me realise the value of creating safe spaces for people to express themselves. A small but surprisingly powerful form of engaging with the community in a deeper way, encouraging everyone to show up as themselves. Looks like those ancient Greeks were on to something after all.]]> In my final year at secondary school, I started a discussion forum. Unsatisfied with the competitiveness of debate clubs, I wanted to create a safe space where people could share and listen to views on philosophical questions and current affairs. This was intended for everyone to benefit from – not just the people who ‘won’ the conversation.

Discussing big ideas

My discussion forum concept was modeled on what I’d read about the ancient Greek democratic system: people (OK, men) would assemble in the town square, share their views and listen to others. In the end, they’d vote on what to do. I respected this raw and uncomplicated process, but what really interested me was the conversation before the vote. Of course, people generally wanted to convince others to come round to their side. But what I was most curious about was the people who were receptive enough to accept being convinced.

We’ve all noticed that the bigger the idea, the more emotionally attached to it we get – sometimes we even attach our identity to it. This is what makes religion and politics such charged subjects. I mean, nobody was assembling at the town square to discuss sandwich flavours (gyros flavours? Did they have gyros in ancient Greece? I digress…). If they were making the effort to come, they’d be armed with their arguments. We all want things to go our way, after all.

Or do we? In order to be open to having our mind changed, we have to show up with some level of humility, the willingness to let someone else be right about something that means a lot to us. And it’s a decision many of us consciously have to make. Whoever did this at the ancient town square exhibited a form of pragmatism: caring more about getting the best outcome for all, than just about being right.

Debate vs discussion

I realised that in contrast to the pragmatic approach, I was more familiar with just one way of discussing big ideas: the debate model. Most of us know the format of school debates, whether we were involved or just saw them on TV shows. The first speaker eloquently introduces the main arguments. The second takes notes and provides scathing rebuttals. The final speaker wraps up the debate with a mic drop.

That’s a fantastic format for developing a number of important skills – research, structuring arguments, persuasion, public speaking, handling pressure, and more. And ‘big questions about big ideas’ are an ideal training ground for people to use these skills, because they are complex, subjective and hard to answer. What I noticed, though, was that outside of the debating context, very few of my classmates seemed that interested in chatting casually about those same big ideas while hanging out at break times or milling around after school.

This mattered to me, because I was genuinely interested in those topics, but didn’t want to have to separate them into a black-and-white, overly simplistic ‘for’ or ‘against’ statement. I wanted to know what other people thought, and didn’t want to engage only by trying to convince others of my viewpoint – what if I didn’t even have one?

I wanted to play around with being for, against, or neither. Sitting in confusion and indecisiveness. Seeing all points of view, and lingering in grey areas. Not winning, while also not losing. And I wanted to do this with people.

This kind of approach could make a conversation less of a competition, and more a form of play, fun and connection. I suspected this could be possible even with big, heavy subjects, as long as everyone approaches it with that mindset.

With my big ideas about big ideas, it was time to, ironically, convince people to support and join me.

The experiment

The easiest part was getting a teacher to be my mentor in bringing my discussion forum to fruition. What teacher wouldn’t want to support a nerdy student who wants to discuss intellectual topics in their free time, and even try to corral other teenagers into it too?

Dr C was one of my favourite teachers – he taught human geography, which had originally piqued my interest in current affairs. As a side note, he also introduced us to TED talks in the mid-2000s, before it really took off globally and before TEDx was a thing (by the way, did you know the first TED conference was in 1984?!). With Dr C’s guidance, I assembled a little team who matched me in being soft-spoken and nerdy but offered a broad range of interests and perspectives to keep things thought-provoking.

Finally, it was time to hold our first session. We booked a room for lunchtime on a Wednesday. We plastered posters around the school with a funny comic we found online. We printed out a couple of interesting articles to hand out for inspiration and mental ignition.

If only I could recall what the topic was. All I remember was showing up to that classroom, flanked only by my teammates, watching the clock tick and wondering exactly how stupid an idea this was. We had moved the desks to the sides and arranged the chairs in a circle in the middle of the room. The idea was to engage without desks creating barriers between us.

Five, maybe 10 minutes after the start time, suddenly students started popping their heads in. “Is this the discussion forum?” they ventured. “Yes!” I exclaimed, going into host mode, directing people to chairs and shoving printouts into their hands. All too quickly, the room was full and we needed to get more chairs from a neighbouring classroom. Although people were a little shy at first, the conversation got going and people became really engaged with each others’ ideas. Not a single fight broke out. By the time the bell rang for class, I was relieved and elated. I couldn’t believe how well it had worked. And I could not wait to start organising the next session.

Unexpected outcomes

In all honesty, my main hope was that the discussion forum wouldn’t be a waste of time for the participants. As it was such a new concept for the school, I didn’t dare imagine people doing more than think “yeah, that was OK,” and then moving on with their day. So, you can imagine my delight when they actually thanked me for doing this and asked when the next one would be.

As with any debut, there were also issues. The handouts were distracting and too long, so we decided to do away with them, provide shorter ones, or make them optional for those who wanted to pre-read before sessions. The chair circle formation, while removing barriers, created an awkward sensation of a ‘black hole’ between us. We discovered that sitting around a table provided a much-needed sense of structure and stability, especially during more vulnerable or honest moments.

I was also asked not to direct the conversation too much. I was trying too hard to control the proceedings so that they would be productive and interesting, but it created the opposite effect. I had to learn to sit back and let it flow, and step in when I had a valuable point to add, needed to provide facilitation or mediation, or opened or closed the session. I’d also taken it upon myself to call on quieter people to speak up, thinking that they just needed a little encouragement. That, it turned out, was unnecessary – if they had something to say, they generally decided when and how they would say it – no direction required.

Agree to disagree

Emboldened by people’s willingness to engage with ideas they disagreed with, I suggested bringing in slightly more explosive opposing views. At that time, the concept of ‘intelligent design’ was being debated in the US – religious groups were insisting this be taught in schools as opposed to evolution. I was fascinated and thought it would be fun to host one of our English teachers, who was a steadfast Christian, and Mr C, a staunch atheist, at one of our forums. (I realise this reveals a lot about what I consider fun…)

The two teachers begrudgingly agreed, and the turnout to this session ended up being one of our highest ever. I suppose many people came just to see two teachers have it out with each other, but the whole point was that everyone had to be civil. By the time the bell rang, though, the English teacher had a distinct pink hue to her face while Mr C was sputtering in barely concealed frustration. Despite this, they consented to being involved in a Part Two and, rather amazingly, were much calmer throughout that second session. Those hoping for a dramatic showdown discreetly made their exits.

I recall that we discussed other topics like whether hijab bans make sense (they were being hotly discussed in France at the time), and possibly euthanasia (also in the news). My memory of the rest is hazy, I regret to say. I will share that at our graduation ceremony that year, I was recognised for this with a ‘Social Contribution’ Award, which was pretty amazing and major validation.

I believe the discussion forum was continued the following year after I graduated. I haven’t kept up with it so I don’t know if it still exists today. But if it counts for anything, I’m glad I did it. It helped me realise the value of creating safe spaces for people to express themselves. A small but surprisingly powerful form of engaging with the community in a deeper way, encouraging everyone to show up as themselves. Looks like those ancient Greeks were on to something after all.

]]> https://little-universe.writeas.com/debating-for-the-conflict-averse Wed, 28 Sep 2022 15:34:25 +0000 Picking the wallflower https://little-universe.writeas.com/picking-the-wallflower?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[\[This post is copied over from The Wonderer.\] In secondary school, I was probably the last person my classmates would have expected to campaign for head student. Everyone knew that it was just a popularity contest. And as a quiet nerd who generally busied myself with amassing good grades and not attracting attention, I was obviously not qualified for the job. So why did I campaign? Was I deluded? Did I suddenly WANT the attention, after spending most of my school life avoiding it as much as possible? With my timid, un-confident manner, what would I have even done with all that head-student influence anyway? And who did I think was going to vote for me in the first place? !--more-- I nominated myself for head student 16 years ago, and since then, I haven't thought much about it. A bold action like this deserves more attention, but only in recent weeks did I remember it and give it some actual thought. And my biggest question to myself was: why did I do it? After all, I knew full well that I was fighting a losing battle from start to finish. It took a while to figure it out, but I eventually realised that I was motivated by two important values. At the time, I wasn't actually aware that I was following any specific values, much less articulate them clearly. Trying for head student just felt like something I wanted to do. Now, after a good session of wondering, I can, for the first time, articulate my reasons. Here are the two values that motivated me: 1\. Give it a go. Although my campaign would have broadly been seen as a complete waste of time for everyone involved, the fact is that there was nothing stopping me from participating. 2\. Observe what's needed, and use my resources to provide it as best I can. Popularity contest aside, being head student was an opportunity to make a positive difference to my school environment. That's it in a nutshell, but I'll go into them below. In the years since then, I've held on to these values and tried to follow them throughout my life. The First Value: Giving it a go This isn't an 'I'll try anything once' situation - I'm not adventurous enough to try skydiving or ayahuasca, for example. But I do like to nudge my own boundaries a little, and keep things interesting. That takes precedence over failing. When opportunities to do something different from the norm present themselves, I'm not quick to say no. I'll often at least consider it. That's why I took, for example, a nunchucks course (my gym was trialling one and invited students to join at a reduced cost) and a stand-up comedy course (a Saturday afternoon, for free). It's also what motivated me to ask some strangers in a coffee shop if I could join their conversation because it was so interesting (they said yes and it was delightful), and to teach myself ukulele (when we were stuck inside due to covid restrictions, I ordered the instrument online and followed tutorials on youtube). Now, this is starting to read like a resume of humble-bragging. But I'm not humble-bragging. I am literally showing off. And do you know why? Because I never get to show off about this stuff and this is my blog and therefore I get to decide. OK, no. OK, maybe a little bit. But also because it's because some of you also have a list like this. And I hope you'll give yourself adequate credit for it. And if you don't have a list like this? You can make one. It just takes asking yourself, when an opportunity presents itself, "what if I don't say no immediately?" This is such a gentle question, but it has given me so much. I am not in the habit of telling people what to do. I just ask that you not say no immediately to this idea. By the way, I don't say yes to every opportunity. There are a bunch of things I had the opportunity to learn or do, that I said no to. The point, though, is that I said no after considering it - sometimes it wasn't my thing, sometimes I didn't have the energy or time to do it, sometimes other reasons. It's important to me to be at least a little excited about what I say yes to, and not force things. The Second Value: See what's needed and provide it This one is even closer to my heart. At some point when I was a teenager, I read a quote along the lines of: "The definition of a hero is not someone who has superhuman skills and wears a cape. A hero is someone who notices what's needed and does their best to provide it." Oh man, I'm getting all mushy just typing that out. It gives me a surge of energy, pride and thankfulness, even though I've known this quote for about 15 years - the effect hasn't worn off for me. I don't remember the author, but wish I could thank them for saying that. So why all the mushiness? Because when I first read that quote, I had very little self-confidence. It was the first spark of inspiration that showed me that even I, a confused, reserved, and angsty teenager, could be more than what I believed I was. At that time, I was studying for exams, deciding what subject to take at university, and taking whatever extracurricular activities would strengthen my applications. They were my main priorities. Being socially awkward, bad (but enthusiastic) at sports, and acne-ridden, I believed that I had many limitations. So it felt like academics were the only area in which I could make any impact. And then I read this quote. It didn't just tell me what one random person thought was a hero. It told me that I, too, could be one. To be honest, I never actually aspired to be a hero. But the quote made it seem so... doable. What an amazing discovery, to know that such a noble task was well within my grasp. So, I decided to start following the lesson of the quote in small ways. Over the years, I've become more observant, and faster at responding to small needs here and there. I'm not perfect at this by any means, and I still don't notice many things, so it remains a work in progress. Bringing them together What makes both these values so remarkable is that they are learnable. By anyone, at any age, no matter where you are in your life or what's happening around you. You can just decide to use them in the next action you decide to take. The second thing is that they are scalable. Big actions can definitely reflect these values, but tiny actions work as well. A simple (possibly too simple) example could be when you're in a shop, paying for something at the till. Before you leave, you look up from your bag or phone to make eye contact as you thank the shop assistant. That tiny moment fulfills both values. First, you're taking the opportunity to connect with a person for a brief moment. And second, you're providing for a natural human need, which is a little spark of shared goodwill. A trivial example, but I think it covers it. The popularity contest Once I decided to run for head student, there was obviously a lot of work to do. I wrote a manifesto, plastered posters across the halls, and made speeches that attempted to be inspiring. I also talked to many, many more people than I normally did. My campaign actually gave me a way to break out of my shell and share something I was passionate about. Most people, even those I knew would not vote for me, responded with unconditional support and even admiration. I felt special in a way that was very new for me. The day came for the student body to cast their votes. It was mostly a rushed blur, but one memory remains clear. A girl of about 11, tiny for her age, was running over to me urgently. I remembered that I knew her - I had spoken to her once before. She said she wanted to tell me a secret. I bent down so she could whisper into my ear. "I voted for you," she confided. Then she ran away, leaving me blissfully stunned. Some days later, the results were announced. The winner was, not surprisingly, the most popular girl in school. To her credit, she deserved it - she was not only popular, she was also smart, practical, and had both the ability and willingness to make changes for the better. Later, I found out that the other candidates were told how many votes they got, by a student who had the tally. Oddly, he hadn't told me, so I decided to track him down. Once I found him, he said he'd check - then he continued to avoid me for days. I finally cornered him and demanded the count. Awkward and squirming, he told me I didn't get many votes at all and refused to share a number. I knew I wouldn't get more intel out of him, so I thanked him and walked casually away. I guess he didn't want to disappoint me, but I already knew what his answer would be - even before I had begun campaigning. It was fun thinking back on a part of my life that I've ignored for many years. On the surface, it looks simply like I tried and failed at something. But as the length of this blog post demonstrates, there was a lot more to it than that.]]> [This post is copied over from The Wonderer.]

In secondary school, I was probably the last person my classmates would have expected to campaign for head student. Everyone knew that it was just a popularity contest. And as a quiet nerd who generally busied myself with amassing good grades and not attracting attention, I was obviously not qualified for the job.

So why did I campaign? Was I deluded? Did I suddenly WANT the attention, after spending most of my school life avoiding it as much as possible? With my timid, un-confident manner, what would I have even done with all that head-student influence anyway? And who did I think was going to vote for me in the first place?

I nominated myself for head student 16 years ago, and since then, I haven't thought much about it. A bold action like this deserves more attention, but only in recent weeks did I remember it and give it some actual thought. And my biggest question to myself was: why did I do it? After all, I knew full well that I was fighting a losing battle from start to finish.

It took a while to figure it out, but I eventually realised that I was motivated by two important values. At the time, I wasn't actually aware that I was following any specific values, much less articulate them clearly. Trying for head student just felt like something I wanted to do.

Now, after a good session of wondering, I can, for the first time, articulate my reasons. Here are the two values that motivated me:

1. Give it a go. Although my campaign would have broadly been seen as a complete waste of time for everyone involved, the fact is that there was nothing stopping me from participating.

2. Observe what's needed, and use my resources to provide it as best I can. Popularity contest aside, being head student was an opportunity to make a positive difference to my school environment.

That's it in a nutshell, but I'll go into them below. In the years since then, I've held on to these values and tried to follow them throughout my life.

The First Value: Giving it a go

This isn't an 'I'll try anything once' situation – I'm not adventurous enough to try skydiving or ayahuasca, for example. But I do like to nudge my own boundaries a little, and keep things interesting. That takes precedence over failing. When opportunities to do something different from the norm present themselves, I'm not quick to say no. I'll often at least consider it.

That's why I took, for example, a nunchucks course (my gym was trialling one and invited students to join at a reduced cost) and a stand-up comedy course (a Saturday afternoon, for free). It's also what motivated me to ask some strangers in a coffee shop if I could join their conversation because it was so interesting (they said yes and it was delightful), and to teach myself ukulele (when we were stuck inside due to covid restrictions, I ordered the instrument online and followed tutorials on youtube).

Now, this is starting to read like a resume of humble-bragging. But I'm not humble-bragging. I am literally showing off. And do you know why? Because I never get to show off about this stuff and this is my blog and therefore I get to decide. OK, no. OK, maybe a little bit. But also because it's because some of you also have a list like this. And I hope you'll give yourself adequate credit for it.

And if you don't have a list like this? You can make one. It just takes asking yourself, when an opportunity presents itself, “what if I don't say no immediately?” This is such a gentle question, but it has given me so much. I am not in the habit of telling people what to do. I just ask that you not say no immediately to this idea.

By the way, I don't say yes to every opportunity. There are a bunch of things I had the opportunity to learn or do, that I said no to. The point, though, is that I said no after considering it – sometimes it wasn't my thing, sometimes I didn't have the energy or time to do it, sometimes other reasons. It's important to me to be at least a little excited about what I say yes to, and not force things.

The Second Value: See what's needed and provide it

This one is even closer to my heart. At some point when I was a teenager, I read a quote along the lines of: “The definition of a hero is not someone who has superhuman skills and wears a cape. A hero is someone who notices what's needed and does their best to provide it.”

Oh man, I'm getting all mushy just typing that out. It gives me a surge of energy, pride and thankfulness, even though I've known this quote for about 15 years – the effect hasn't worn off for me. I don't remember the author, but wish I could thank them for saying that.

So why all the mushiness? Because when I first read that quote, I had very little self-confidence. It was the first spark of inspiration that showed me that even I, a confused, reserved, and angsty teenager, could be more than what I believed I was.

At that time, I was studying for exams, deciding what subject to take at university, and taking whatever extracurricular activities would strengthen my applications. They were my main priorities. Being socially awkward, bad (but enthusiastic) at sports, and acne-ridden, I believed that I had many limitations. So it felt like academics were the only area in which I could make any impact.

And then I read this quote. It didn't just tell me what one random person thought was a hero. It told me that I, too, could be one. To be honest, I never actually aspired to be a hero. But the quote made it seem so... doable. What an amazing discovery, to know that such a noble task was well within my grasp. So, I decided to start following the lesson of the quote in small ways. Over the years, I've become more observant, and faster at responding to small needs here and there. I'm not perfect at this by any means, and I still don't notice many things, so it remains a work in progress.

Bringing them together

What makes both these values so remarkable is that they are learnable. By anyone, at any age, no matter where you are in your life or what's happening around you. You can just decide to use them in the next action you decide to take.

The second thing is that they are scalable. Big actions can definitely reflect these values, but tiny actions work as well. A simple (possibly too simple) example could be when you're in a shop, paying for something at the till. Before you leave, you look up from your bag or phone to make eye contact as you thank the shop assistant. That tiny moment fulfills both values. First, you're taking the opportunity to connect with a person for a brief moment. And second, you're providing for a natural human need, which is a little spark of shared goodwill. A trivial example, but I think it covers it.

The popularity contest

Once I decided to run for head student, there was obviously a lot of work to do. I wrote a manifesto, plastered posters across the halls, and made speeches that attempted to be inspiring. I also talked to many, many more people than I normally did. My campaign actually gave me a way to break out of my shell and share something I was passionate about. Most people, even those I knew would not vote for me, responded with unconditional support and even admiration. I felt special in a way that was very new for me.

The day came for the student body to cast their votes. It was mostly a rushed blur, but one memory remains clear. A girl of about 11, tiny for her age, was running over to me urgently. I remembered that I knew her – I had spoken to her once before. She said she wanted to tell me a secret. I bent down so she could whisper into my ear. “I voted for you,” she confided. Then she ran away, leaving me blissfully stunned.

Some days later, the results were announced. The winner was, not surprisingly, the most popular girl in school. To her credit, she deserved it – she was not only popular, she was also smart, practical, and had both the ability and willingness to make changes for the better.

Later, I found out that the other candidates were told how many votes they got, by a student who had the tally. Oddly, he hadn't told me, so I decided to track him down. Once I found him, he said he'd check – then he continued to avoid me for days. I finally cornered him and demanded the count. Awkward and squirming, he told me I didn't get many votes at all and refused to share a number. I knew I wouldn't get more intel out of him, so I thanked him and walked casually away. I guess he didn't want to disappoint me, but I already knew what his answer would be – even before I had begun campaigning.

It was fun thinking back on a part of my life that I've ignored for many years. On the surface, it looks simply like I tried and failed at something. But as the length of this blog post demonstrates, there was a lot more to it than that.

]]> https://little-universe.writeas.com/picking-the-wallflower Sun, 18 Sep 2022 04:19:26 +0000 Thinking too much https://little-universe.writeas.com/thinking-too-much?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[\[This post is copied over from The Wonderer.\] "You think too much." I was around 8 years old, having breakfast at my aunt and uncle's place. Or, to be more exact, I was sitting at the table, staring into space, while ignoring the breakfast items in my general vicinity. Obviously, I hadn't gone there to think. It's a relative's house, so the objective is to eat. And that meant my uncle's assessment was correct: I indeed was thinking too much. Thinking or daydreaming? The thing is, I thought my uncle made no sense at all. In my 8 year old mind, I figured: in school, all day, every day they tell us to think. At home, I don't want to do stupid things, like break stuff, so I have to use my brain. Is there really such a thing as too much thinking? I thought not. And also, "thinking" wasn't even what I was doing. I was daydreaming. !--more-- If you, like me, spend a lot of time in your head, you'll be well-versed of the difference. Thinking is hard work. It's single-pointed focus, using the brain as a tool to get a result. The act is often accompanied by a laser-like gaze and a frown on the forehead. You see that expression on little children, too. Meanwhile, daydreaming is like floating on a cloud. It's loose and free, and the mind takes you where it wants to go - often fantastical places unreachable by reality. The gaze is usually either vacant or awestruck, and there's nothing on the forehead, except maybe some eyebrows lifted in surprise. Crashing back to reality I considered whether to correct my uncle on this important distinction, but realised that he just wanted me to eat. And, ideally, to interact with the other humans at the table. And that meant I had to come back from the daydream. Returning from a daydream is never a graceful affair. There is no way to gradually descend the flying mind down from the mental sky. There is no generous landing strip waiting for you, extending out to give you ample time to acclimate back to reality. No. Someone near you says something. You crash-land. Rattled, you try to make sense of their request while half of your mind is still in that imaginary world, wondering if you can go back there once you've finished your breakfast. And all of this happens in about half a second. What's it all for? We've all seen a 'crash-landing' happen in movies, especially those about high school students who fantasise about their love interests. I'd bet that crushes are the go-to theme for most beginner or advanced daydreamers. Who wouldn't want to prance around in a romantic haze with the object of their affection? Another common daydream subject, based on my highly unscientific research of random movies I've watched over the years, is getting comeuppance. Delivering a great comeback to a snide remark. Or telling someone off, deftly proving that you are morally superior through the strength of your rock-solid arguments. As a conflict-averse person, I've had the dubious satisfaction of scolding many people over the years, in the cushioned confines of my mind. I don't know any other animal that can take vacations from reality in its own brain. Isn't it incredible? We can sit in traffic and imagine flying to our destination, or sit on a cloud gazing smugly at the choked-up road. Meanwhile an ant marching in a line has nothing interesting to look at but another ant's butt. And I'm sure that gets old pretty quickly. Of course, excessive daydreaming is a problem. For many, a fantasy world can be more compelling than reality. And for others, it may be the only respite from a difficult and tragic situation. It's not my place to comment on why people end up in these situations. I can only go back to a piece of advice someone gave me: if someone is struggling, you may or may not be able to help, but always have compassion for them. Reality matters Daydreaming balanced with real life can, in fact, be a gift to the rest of us. A daydreamer who can turn their fantasy worlds into engrossing books, comic strips, TV shows, etc earns something special: an audience. The world of Harry Potter, for example, is incredibly detailed. And although it's largely the stuff of one person's imagination, J. K. Rowling took inspiration from our world. For instance, the mandrake plant that looks like a human is based on an actual plant and its folklore, which has lasted thousands of years. Another example is Harry's response to traumatic events. I'm not a psychologist, so don't quote me on this, but I was convinced by how she chose to change Harry's behaviour and write his moods in book 5. With the popularity of the series, the reverse also happened: fantasy informed reality. For example, you would think that Quidditch, a team sport that is played flying on broomsticks, would remain firmly in the magical world. Not so. Some innovative sportspeople invented a version of Quidditch that's compatible with the demands of gravity. Yes, you're imagining it right - they run around with broomsticks between their legs. There are even championship games now. Who knows, maybe it'll end up in the Olympics. Of course, there is a long history of fantasy informing reality. If you look out the window and notice a helicopter, know that it was inspired by a book by Jules Verne. And the mobile phone you might be reading this blog post on? Star Trek. Really. Here's a quote from Smithsonian Magazine: Martin Cooper, the director of research and development at Motorola, credited several “Star Trek” technologies as partial inspiration for the design of the first mobile phone in the early 1970s. “That was not fantasy to us,” Cooper said, “that was an objective.” (Source) Acts of courage Personally, I prefer to think of my phone as a magic wand. That's because I'm more of a Harry Potter fan than a Trekkie. Regardless, I have respect for the writers of Star Trek, and those among us who expertly reveal the worlds in their minds to an audience willing to see them. It's an art, but it's also an act of courage. But back to the 8-year-old at the breakfast table. That morning, it would have taken some measure of courage to share what was on my mind. Whether the audience was receptive is another question. And who knows - maybe my uncle would have been fascinated if I had thought to share. Most mind-wanderers, though, aren't really thinking about their audience. Ultimately, our brief mental breaks and detours add spice to our inner lives. But if we express them with an understanding of our audience, our daydreams can also bring excitement, innovation and delight to the lives of others. And that is a lovely thought.]]> [This post is copied over from The Wonderer.]

“You think too much.”

I was around 8 years old, having breakfast at my aunt and uncle's place. Or, to be more exact, I was sitting at the table, staring into space, while ignoring the breakfast items in my general vicinity.

Obviously, I hadn't gone there to think. It's a relative's house, so the objective is to eat. And that meant my uncle's assessment was correct: I indeed was thinking too much.

Thinking or daydreaming?

The thing is, I thought my uncle made no sense at all. In my 8 year old mind, I figured: in school, all day, every day they tell us to think. At home, I don't want to do stupid things, like break stuff, so I have to use my brain. Is there really such a thing as too much thinking? I thought not.

And also, “thinking” wasn't even what I was doing. I was daydreaming.

If you, like me, spend a lot of time in your head, you'll be well-versed of the difference. Thinking is hard work. It's single-pointed focus, using the brain as a tool to get a result. The act is often accompanied by a laser-like gaze and a frown on the forehead. You see that expression on little children, too.

Meanwhile, daydreaming is like floating on a cloud. It's loose and free, and the mind takes you where it wants to go – often fantastical places unreachable by reality. The gaze is usually either vacant or awestruck, and there's nothing on the forehead, except maybe some eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Crashing back to reality

I considered whether to correct my uncle on this important distinction, but realised that he just wanted me to eat. And, ideally, to interact with the other humans at the table. And that meant I had to come back from the daydream.

Returning from a daydream is never a graceful affair. There is no way to gradually descend the flying mind down from the mental sky. There is no generous landing strip waiting for you, extending out to give you ample time to acclimate back to reality. No. Someone near you says something. You crash-land. Rattled, you try to make sense of their request while half of your mind is still in that imaginary world, wondering if you can go back there once you've finished your breakfast. And all of this happens in about half a second.

What's it all for?

We've all seen a 'crash-landing' happen in movies, especially those about high school students who fantasise about their love interests. I'd bet that crushes are the go-to theme for most beginner or advanced daydreamers. Who wouldn't want to prance around in a romantic haze with the object of their affection?

Another common daydream subject, based on my highly unscientific research of random movies I've watched over the years, is getting comeuppance. Delivering a great comeback to a snide remark. Or telling someone off, deftly proving that you are morally superior through the strength of your rock-solid arguments. As a conflict-averse person, I've had the dubious satisfaction of scolding many people over the years, in the cushioned confines of my mind.

I don't know any other animal that can take vacations from reality in its own brain. Isn't it incredible? We can sit in traffic and imagine flying to our destination, or sit on a cloud gazing smugly at the choked-up road. Meanwhile an ant marching in a line has nothing interesting to look at but another ant's butt. And I'm sure that gets old pretty quickly.

Of course, excessive daydreaming is a problem. For many, a fantasy world can be more compelling than reality. And for others, it may be the only respite from a difficult and tragic situation. It's not my place to comment on why people end up in these situations. I can only go back to a piece of advice someone gave me: if someone is struggling, you may or may not be able to help, but always have compassion for them.

Reality matters

Daydreaming balanced with real life can, in fact, be a gift to the rest of us. A daydreamer who can turn their fantasy worlds into engrossing books, comic strips, TV shows, etc earns something special: an audience.

The world of Harry Potter, for example, is incredibly detailed. And although it's largely the stuff of one person's imagination, J. K. Rowling took inspiration from our world. For instance, the mandrake plant that looks like a human is based on an actual plant and its folklore, which has lasted thousands of years. Another example is Harry's response to traumatic events. I'm not a psychologist, so don't quote me on this, but I was convinced by how she chose to change Harry's behaviour and write his moods in book 5.

With the popularity of the series, the reverse also happened: fantasy informed reality. For example, you would think that Quidditch, a team sport that is played flying on broomsticks, would remain firmly in the magical world. Not so. Some innovative sportspeople invented a version of Quidditch that's compatible with the demands of gravity. Yes, you're imagining it right – they run around with broomsticks between their legs. There are even championship games now. Who knows, maybe it'll end up in the Olympics.

Of course, there is a long history of fantasy informing reality. If you look out the window and notice a helicopter, know that it was inspired by a book by Jules Verne. And the mobile phone you might be reading this blog post on? Star Trek. Really. Here's a quote from Smithsonian Magazine:

Martin Cooper, the director of research and development at Motorola, credited several “Star Trek” technologies as partial inspiration for the design of the first mobile phone in the early 1970s. “That was not fantasy to us,” Cooper said, “that was an objective.”

(Source)

Acts of courage

Personally, I prefer to think of my phone as a magic wand. That's because I'm more of a Harry Potter fan than a Trekkie. Regardless, I have respect for the writers of Star Trek, and those among us who expertly reveal the worlds in their minds to an audience willing to see them. It's an art, but it's also an act of courage.

But back to the 8-year-old at the breakfast table. That morning, it would have taken some measure of courage to share what was on my mind. Whether the audience was receptive is another question. And who knows – maybe my uncle would have been fascinated if I had thought to share.

Most mind-wanderers, though, aren't really thinking about their audience. Ultimately, our brief mental breaks and detours add spice to our inner lives. But if we express them with an understanding of our audience, our daydreams can also bring excitement, innovation and delight to the lives of others. And that is a lovely thought.

]]> https://little-universe.writeas.com/thinking-too-much Sun, 18 Sep 2022 04:15:23 +0000 The Wonderer is now Little Universe https://little-universe.writeas.com/the-wonderer-is-now-little-universe?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[Some of you know I recently started a blog on WordPress called The Wonderer. I described it as “A blog for those who like to go on little brain journeys - no map provided.” What I was trying to do was force my blog into a theme: a targeted space for people who like to think and wonder about things. The last thing I wanted was to create an unstructured, unpredictable pile of content with no clear aims. I didn’t want to be one of those bloggers who waxes lyrical about my mediocre breakfast and expects people to care. So I figured a theme would help me focus and ensure you know what to expect. The trouble is, the ‘wonderer’ angle never really sat right with me, despite being such a general theme with space for many topics. Yes, I do ponder and postulate, ruminate and reflect. But that’s not all. I also have perspectives and views that come from lived experience and rigorous observation. And I think they are worth reading too. When it comes down to it, what I really want is a place to share what’s in the little universe inside my head. You’re invited to join me, but as with any invitation, it’s entirely up to you whether you accept. And if you do, I’m grateful.]]> Some of you know I recently started a blog on WordPress called The Wonderer. I described it as “A blog for those who like to go on little brain journeys – no map provided.”

What I was trying to do was force my blog into a theme: a targeted space for people who like to think and wonder about things. The last thing I wanted was to create an unstructured, unpredictable pile of content with no clear aims. I didn’t want to be one of those bloggers who waxes lyrical about my mediocre breakfast and expects people to care. So I figured a theme would help me focus and ensure you know what to expect.

The trouble is, the ‘wonderer’ angle never really sat right with me, despite being such a general theme with space for many topics. Yes, I do ponder and postulate, ruminate and reflect. But that’s not all. I also have perspectives and views that come from lived experience and rigorous observation. And I think they are worth reading too.

When it comes down to it, what I really want is a place to share what’s in the little universe inside my head. You’re invited to join me, but as with any invitation, it’s entirely up to you whether you accept. And if you do, I’m grateful.

]]> https://little-universe.writeas.com/the-wonderer-is-now-little-universe Sun, 18 Sep 2022 04:10:51 +0000